His long, brown fingers closed upon a small inlaid box which rested upon the table. Burnt into the cover of the box was a cleverly devised tiger's head with a few words of Indian dialect underneath, the personal seal of Rao-Singh, the brand which marked all his possessions. He snapped open the lock and drew from the cushioned interior of the box a dazzling pearl necklace worth a fortune. Evenin the dim light its radiance and worth were apparent. Carmelita could not suppress an exclamation of delight. Not until the Prince had unfastened the catch and made a movement to clasp the jewels around her neck did she awake to the significance of his action. She stepped back, staring at him. The passion in his dark face chilled her.
"Will you not accept it, Carmelita?" he controlled himself. "You and I are different from the others, the Americans, you know. We are of older, warmer-blooded races. We take love where we find it. You are the only woman I have ever desired to make my Princess. I want you—I—"
"You forget that I am already betrothed," she stammered and started uncertainly toward the door. He did not attempt to stop her, but his black, narrowed eyes glowered ominously.
Completely unnerved upon gaining the larger room, it seemed incredible to Carmelita
